Tomorrows Hopes and Today's Truths
by TheColdFlame
Summary: Daryl sighed, it was getting late, he would have to go back to camp. He would have to return without her again. Tomorrow, Daryl told himself, tomorrow he would find her.


**Tomorrows Hopes and Today's Truths**

"Sophia," Daryl called sharply, mindful of his surroundings and any sort if creature that might hear him. The truth was, there was only one sort of creature likely to hear him and not run away, and that was the savage, flesh eating zombies that may be wandering endlessly in the woods.

"Sophia," he called again, and that was another truth, the only sort of living creature he wanted to encounter was Sophia, the little girl who had gotten lost in the woods that he had promised her mother he would find. Promised; the awful thing was, he was beginning to think that he would have to break that promise.

Daryl sighed, it was getting late, he would have to go back to camp. He would have to return without her again. Tomorrow, Daryl told himself, tomorrow he would find her. And so he returned to camp, endured the sight of Carl's hopeful expression that was fading more and more every day, promised once again that he would find her, convinced Rick that yes, he was fine, and went to sleep. Tomorrow, he told himself again as the world faded to him and he left the realm of the conscious, tomorrow he would find her.

When Daryl woke the next morning his first thought was that 'today, today he would find her.' This had been his first thought every morning and every morning he set out thinking the same thing and it would run through his head throughout the day until evening came and the day was done and he returned once again, still empty handed. It was always like that, but this day, today, would be different, today would be the day that he found her: he could feel it. Today was always different, it was always the day he would find her and he could always feel it.

And so Daryl headed out into the woods determinedly, the worried eyes of the camp following him. He paid them no mind, thinking about them wouldn't help him find Sophia, looking would. Of course he knew that they were looking too, with Ricks clever planning and the Greene families map, but he wasn't going to wait for them to start: he just marked his section on the map and left. He worked well and he worked alone.

"Sophia," Daryl called, "Sophia." He had said that name more times in the past few days than he had any name in his life apart from maybe Merle. He had never been very social and he had never talked much- the rest of the group had figured that out pretty quickly, well, everyone but Glenn.

Daryl first headed to the abandoned (like everyone else in the world) house where had had found the Cherokee arose and the make-shift bed in the cupboard. He had returned there everyday since then just hoping that he was right and that it had been her- and that she was still there. She wasn't, she never was, but he still tried everyday and he would still try tomorrow and the next day and the next day until she was found, and she would be found. He told himself that everyday too, Daryl's life had never been more repetitive than it was then.

And so Daryl headed back into the woods and searched and searched and searched, and he would never stop searching. He would be searching for Sophia for as long as he could, for as long as in was necessary, and when it no longer was he would be searching still. Searching for food and supplies and a reason why he just kept going, why he did not and would not stop.

He didn't know why he needed a reason: with or without it Daryl was a Dixon and Dixons did not just give up. They survived and they carried on surviving and they never stopped and he would never stop surviving: he didn't know how.

Maybe he was looking for a reason for the others to survive, to keep surviving because he didn't want them to die; because he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be alone and whilst he did not particularly like these people and they did not particularly like him, being with them was better, so much better, than being alone.

Maybe Daryl just wanted a reason for that little girl to survive, because there wasn't much point in going on living whilst children were dying. There wasn't much point at all.

Daryl glanced up at the dimming sky, he had been searching all day and now it was getting dark and he would have to go back to the farm telling himself once again that tomorrow, tomorrow he would find her. So he gave his surroundings one last hopeful glance and turned around, taking a different way back so that he could cover more ground. That's what he needed, to cover more ground.

His journey led him once again to the misleading abandoned house that brought his hopes up every morning when he saw it only to bring them crashing down again as soon as he entered and realized once again that it was empty, and she was not there. But that never stopped him from hoping for tomorrow.

So Daryl tool a leap of hopeless faith and stepped once again into the abandoned house, not yet ready to abandon the idea that maybe, just maybe, Sophia would be there. And she wasn't, because she never was, because no matter how much times he checked she would never be there. The thought alone was terrible, the fact that he lived it every day was even worse.

And then came the scream. The scream that meant everything and nothing. The scream that he had been hoping for and dreading. The scream that meant both life and death. The scream of a child; her scream.

And Daryl was out of the house in a flash, his crossbow ready and his mind just not. Yes, he had been searching for Sophia for a very long time- too long- and he had been waiting for a sign that she was still alive for even longer, but not this sign. Not this sign, because now that he heard it, now that it was there and she could be close, he just wasn't ready for it. He wasn't ready for what the scream might mean; for what he might find. A part of him, and he didn't know how small that part was, but a part of him hoped that it wasn't her. Hoped that it was some other unfortunate soul because that terrified scream was not encouraging.

But it was her, of course it was. It was Sophia backing desperately away from a Walker, a broken tree branch clutched in her hands. The Walker was injured, its leg badly mangled and dragging limply on the floor, slowing it down. That had probably saved Sophie from the worst kind of fate.

In the time it took for Daryl to lift his bow into a ready position something lunged, and it wasn't the Walker. No it was Sophia, the little girl lunged forward and whacked the Walkers legs with as much forces as she could manage. And the Walker stumbled and fell backwards and Daryl shot, a perfect shot that caught the Walker straight through the head.

"Sophia," Daryl called, hopefully for the last time. He stared incredulously at the brave, brave little girl who stood tall despite the terrified look in her eyes and the dirt that covered her from head to toe. Stood tall despite the dead Walker on the floor in front of her. The brave little girl who had knocked down a Walker despite what must have been a crippling fear, because it meant that she would live; survive. The girl was a survivor, Daryl thought, a survivor just like him. She could have pulled of a Dixon any day.

"Daryl?" Her voice was small and shaking and Daryl could see tears welling in her huge eyes.  
>"Yeah, it's me kid," he said quietly, determined not to frighten her any more than she already was, "its Daryl." He knelt down so that he was closer to her height- shorter- and held out a hand. "It's Daryl," and with that she was in his arms, clinging to him desperately and sobbing into his shoulder.<p>

"Shh," he soothed, both mindful of their surroundings and what could be hiding in the trees and also because he just couldn't bare to see that little girl cry. "Shh Sophia," he said again, "I tell you, you've had us all worryin' 'bout you. We've all bin searchin' for ya, even Carl. Your Mamma's really bin missin' ya so we better get you back to her." It was all he could think to say, no one had been there when he had gotten lost in the woods, so no one had reassured him, but he was sure that if he was Sophia he would want to know that people had been searching, and that his Mamma had been waiting. His Mamma had never been waiting.

He waited patiently- more patiently than he had ever managed- for the little girl to calm down before speaking quietly again.  
>"Now I reckon you could walk," he said, "Brave girl like yourself, but I can get us home much quicker if I carry ya, but if I do that then I need you to keep a look out for me. You look behind and I look in front and we get us home. Can you do that for me?"<br>"Yes," she whispered shakily.  
>"And if you see anything you keep quiet and squeeze my shoulder okay?"<br>"Okay."

And so he stood up and began to walk back to the farm, because all he wanted now was to get the girl home to her Mamma. And when he got home he would find Carol and return her wonderful brave little girl and then he would go to sleep thinking that 'tomorrow, tomorrow he would find it.' And he didn't know what it was, but he would find it, just like he had found her. He would search and search and eventually he would find what he was looking for, no matter what it may be.

And all the while Daryl would carry on surviving and he wouldn't stop surviving because one of the biggest truths that Daryl knew was that in today's world the biggest choice that people had to face was whether to carry on living or carry on dying. Daryl hoped beyond hope that the little girl would give the group a reason to carry on living because they were some of the only ones left. Because he knew that they were some of the only ones left and they needed to carry on living, because Daryl had an overwhelming hope for tomorrow and tomorrow's hopes.

**Please Review x  
>Josi <strong>


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